


The Luck You Got

by WaeeJ6



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Batfamily (DCU), Brothers, Dead Alfred Pennyworth, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I'm Sorry, Inspired by Shameless (US), Protective Siblings, Siblings, Slow To Update, Sorry Not Sorry, Why Did I Write This?, but angsty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24040558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaeeJ6/pseuds/WaeeJ6
Summary: Nobody’s ever described Gotham City as a paradise. The antithesis of Metropolis in almost every possible way, Gotham city was more of a hellhole, where corruption and greed were deemed virtues you needed to be born with to be able to survive into your 50s.Even if you were a Wayne.ORI was rewatching Shameless and thought, would Bruce get here if Alfred didn't exist? And that kind of culminated into this.
Relationships: Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 27





	1. Pilot

Nobody’s ever described Gotham City as a paradise, that is unless you were one of the billion circus-themed crime lords circuiting around the city at an ever-changing pace. Hostage situations were more frequent than birthday parties, and graduation rates were dropping due to early deaths and not innovative startups. The antithesis of Metropolis in almost every possible way, Gotham city was more of a hellhole, where corruption and greed were deemed virtues you needed to be born with to be able to survive into your 50s. 

That was one thing she never discriminated on, swallowing you up into the tender embrace of death and destruction unless you chose to follow the unspoken rules of those selfish motives. It was hard to be good, a difficult endeavour to have chosen. If the choice was made, it was even harder to survive. 

Even if you were a Wayne. 

Even the people who had tried their very hardest to push against the natural feng shui of the city. The people who put a monetary stake on the right things, helping the poor, supporting the medical industry within the city. The people who went as far as to structurally rebuild the city, hoping to have it resurrect and start anew. 

But Gotham punished them for their hard work, scared of the easily obtained help, worried that the easier it came, the fishier the story would seem. And so Thomas and Martha Wayne paid the price, trusting a corrupt system, trusting the city to leave them be for one night of familial celebration. Leaving a lesson to be learned by the lone child left behind. 

In a better world, this child would be protected. He’d be raised by a gentle old outsider, non-Gotham, who didn’t quite understand the rules of the city. Who kept his promises with deceased adults. And maybe this child would grow up with some stability and some nurture. 

But not in this world. 

In this world, Bruce Wayne grew up around the amoral children of Gotham by himself. He grieved in the beginning, old learnings from the most unique Gothamites still protected within himself.

“Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder,” the psychiatrist hired by the state had called it. But really, all Bruce did was run back to the scene of the crime, hoping to run into the man, feeling the most confident he’d ever had. He didn’t want to stop, couldn’t, not until William Earle, the acting CEO at his parent’s company forced him to take a break. 

“This isn’t what they want for you kid.” 

So he left. Trying to figure out just what his parents would have wanted then. But that train of thought mainly led him down a path that didn’t sit right with him. Away from Gotham, but also away from any reminders of the Waynes, he decided to rebel and lived the way he wanted to, the way his friends told him to, the way his accountant never stopped him from following. 

“He was barely grieving. He’s already been around Europe, you know? Twice.” the old ladies at the first Wayne Gala since the shooting had announced, noting his absence at the Enterprise-led event. Privacy was an imagined fantasy, in Gotham at least. If the ladies didn’t twist the story in _their_ favour first, somebody else would. They had to if they wanted to survive. 

“Isn’t it the perfect excuse for audaciously living life?” Mrs DuPont had tittered as she goaded the other ladies present at the next Wayne Gala. They all stood staring in reckless abandon at the second pregnant woman Bruce was introducing to Jim Gordon, while William Earle worked at networking for the company on the other side of the ballroom. Loyalty was a fickle thing, in Gotham at least. Without a betrayal, would William Earle have even survived?

“It might have been Bruce’s birthright, but he never really wanted it,” the lawyers had shrugged, looking the other way as the ownership details around Wayne Enterprises changed hands under the counter. And Gotham’s charm held. Corruption held fast, sole individuals became richer, and their survival became a reality.

“He totally deserved it,” Janet Drake had remarked, studiously trying to keep her gaze from moving closer to her 3-year-old son standing next to his father in the newspaper clipping, the headline reading, ‘The Waynes forced to live in Crime Alley.’ Five kids in Crime Alley, and hadn’t he just had another? She’d given up her own when Bruce sniffed too close to her family’s monetary acquisition. She’d rather sacrifice than not survive. 

‘He might, but not the kids,’ thought Dick Grayson as he watched his siblings eat dinner through the window pane. His eyes travelled back to the brand new spray-paint-job on the second-hand car he’d just got his hands on a week back, frustration seeping off of him in waves. Breathing out heavily, he bent over to wash off the last of the bright red words, less visible but still present, ‘Go Home, Pimp.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wake up kiddos.” 

Dick heard Tim’s answering grumble, still in the lower bunk bed, as he made his way into the cramped room, kicking at some filthy pants strewn onto the floor. Still barely awake, Dick decided to first deal with the tamer grumpy kid tightened into a fetal position in the upper bunk bed.

“Jay, c’mon it’s almost 7.” Dick shook his shoulder in emphasis. 

Hearing a half-mumbled answer of acceptance from the older teen, he bent over to pick Tim up. The 11-year-old was still quite tiny for his age; a reminder he wasn’t a fan of getting every morning on a school day. 

With Tim wrapped around his bare torso, Dick walked past the girls’ room, knocking twice and leaving them with a, “It’s 7 girls, up and at ‘em.”

Dick retraced his steps to his own room, about a foot away from the kids’. He’d last left Damian there awake and rubbing his eyes, who’d hopefully followed his advice of getting up and jumping into the shower. A short sweep of the room suggested his hope in the 8-year old was well-founded.

He dropped Tim on his bed, as he traded the kid for his police academy uniform in a hurry. Dragging the shirt down, he dusted at the creases that had been forming, a regretful consequence of not having the time to iron it. Putting his pants on, Dick moved to lift Tim up again, hoisting him up on his shoulder, only to pass Damian coming into the room, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

He stepped past Jason and Steph on his way to the stairs, the former was thumping away heavily onto the locked bathroom door, situated right next to his room, in frustration, while Steph, having thrown her used clothes down the chute, walked right back into her room.

“I’ll see you downstairs in fifteen Jase, whether Cass comes out or not.”

Dick took the stairs two at a time, walking through the living room, only to enter the kitchen. He dropped Tim down onto one of the chairs at the dining table, his ear flat on the wooden surface as he snored away. Chuckling at the kid’s capacity to sleep, Dick quickly headed to the kitchen counter, starting on Tim’s breakfast; he poured open the tap water on top of the instant coffee he’d already put into Tim’s cup, the one with the ‘Coffee before Talkie’ label on it. Placing the mug across Tim’s face, he walked back to check up on the calendar stuck to the refrigerator: bills coming up in two days, cue the panic. 

“Up, Timmy, Coffee’s in front of you,” Dick said, moving utensils around as he looked for the savings he’d stored up in the counter. He knew he was maybe twenty dollars short, but he had to check first. He heard Tim grumble in reply to his initial request. 

“Grayson,” greeted a voice gruffly, sounding more like a puppy trying to imitate a wolf, not at all intimidating. Damian stood right behind Dick, his posture was rigid, but not quite uncomfortable. He looked expectantly up at Dick, in the perfect imitation of a crime boss waiting for his demands to be met.

“Dami,” smiled Dick in kind, grabbing hastily at the Tide box hidden in the back of the counter, “What do you need?” 

Dick turned around, giving his full attention to the kid while holding securely onto the box in his hand. 

“I need Father to sign a-”

“Cass, get the _fuck out_ already!”

Damian rolled his eyes. He muttered a few insults ranging from imbeciles to animals, as a few more thumps could be heard from above. 

“Bruce didn’t get home last night,” Dick had checked, right before waking the kids-

“Did he have a new case?” 

He could literally see the excitement coming off of Damian in waves; if anybody in the family was enamoured by Bruce, it’d probably be little Damian. 

“I have no idea kiddo,” Dick avoided his eyes as he grabbed at the note Damian had removed from his own pocket, “Give it to me, I’ll sign it.” It looked like it was a form for a field trip that was supposed to occur on the next day. 

“Or I could,” Steph sounded smug as she plopped down next to Tim, snatching the paper from Dick’s hand. “You know, I’m getting better at doing his signature.” 

Shrugging, Dick grabbed at the jug at the centre of the table that looked almost finished and moved to fill it up with a little water. He’d have to grab some groceries on his way back from the Academy. As he placed the jug back in the middle of the table, Dick leaned atop Steph to admire the near-perfect imitation that was the ‘Bruce Wayne’ signature. 

“That’s pretty good Steph,” He praised, leaning on the back of Tim’s chair. The younger boy’s eyes were less glazed as he slurped away the last of the coffee. 

“Timmy, go change and get Jason while you’re at it.” Dick asked as he watched Tim push at the table to stand up, “We’re leaving in ten!” He yelled out the last few words as the middle schooler ran into the living room, nodding as he went. 

Dick moved to bring four bowls and two cups to put onto the table. Steph and Damian hastily grabbed the bowls, while Dick took a cup for himself, pouring corn flakes in first, milk second.

“Good morning,” Cass walked in. She made her way to sit right next to Stephanie who responded in kind. Now he only had two more kids to feed.

“Why do we only have _cereal_?” 

Speak of the devil…

Jason’s hair was still wet. He was wearing one of his cleaner clothes. Dick thought, perhaps today was an important day for him. 

“Debate competition coming up? Or is it a play?” Dick smirked as Jason scowled back at his jab, grabbing a bowl for himself. Dick patiently chewed, still smirking, as he watched the younger boy pour himself cereal into the last remaining bowl. 

“Tutoring,” he said finally, glancing up only for a second to see Dick’s confused reaction, “One of those prissies at GA. Gotta help out somehow.” Despite his initial complaint, Jason was already munching on corn flakes as he answered Dick’s query. 

Tim walked into the room next, bag in hand, clothes ruffled but not the same as earlier. 

“What do you mean GA, I thought-” Dick was still processing the news as Tim grabbed the last cup, pouring in some cereal.

“They pay better.” Jason challenged, eyes not leaving his bowl as he scrapped through the leftover cereal. He hated it when the flakes just stuck to the edges. 

“But Jason, I thought I told you _not_ to-”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to listen.” 

“Grayson,” Damian interrupted before this escalated further, “I have to talk to Mrs Roberts before school-” 

“Okay,” Dick closed his eyes, trying to reign himself in, “Just-” 

Taking a deep breath, he got up, picking up everyone’s empty bowls, “Let’s - Let’s talk about this later.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. If I've not mentioned it enough, I was kind of inspired by Shameless (US) here.
> 
> This is the first fic I've made a proper plan for, I've literally scrapped everything else I've ever 'planned'. So I'll be making an effort to update it as frequently as possible, mainly every Wednesday. Do leave a comment, critiques, what I can do better, maybe something I got wrong, maybe even something I got right, whatever works. 
> 
> Thanks
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://cool-freebird36.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a tutoring issue, the kids talk to Bruce, and Dick meets Barbara.

This was definitely paradise, Jason thought. He’d rarely been to this side of the city. The larger backyards, the sounds of dogs barking being wafted by screeching kids, in laughter not pain, the better cars parked outside, and the wider, but empty roads suggested a more healthy version of the city that he’d never really been a part of. It even smells like he's outside one of those shopping centres right outside Park Row. It was like the Disney movies Dick made them watch because Damian secretly wanted to watch them, all colourful and shit. 

Jason knocked on the heavy set door in front of him in resignation. The nervous teen moved his hands into his pockets as he waited for the door to be opened. This was literally the last place anyone expected him to be, even himself. He looked around, head, moving from left to right before focusing back on the door. The more he waited the more agitated he got. 

“Are you the tutor?”

Jason turned back around to see the door suddenly ajar. An old woman was standing on the other side. Not old like a granny, but old like his Biology teacher at school, with a few fine lines on her face that screamed they’d been breathing in Gotham air for at least fifty years, but blonde and long enough hair, tied tightly in a bun, that she could possibly be in her late thirties. So, old. 

“Uh, yeah.” Jason shrugged, with a half-nod, the strap on his backpack almost sliding off. He scuffled his sneaker-clad feet around as he waited for her to move and give him enough room to pass through. 

The lady sniffed, her posture straightening as her eyes narrowed in disdain. But then she smiled, the kind that reminds you that she’d rather be watching a regular soap opera at this time of the day than entertaining a 16-year old whose torn jeans and second-hand dusty old shirt probably suggested that he’s not from around here. 

He followed her inside, not surprised by the interior based on what he’d just seen outside. He’s expecting chandeliers and grand pianos in the living room at this point, two steps in, and he’s not disappointed. Mike Mathers, the kid he’s supposed to be tutoring, is seated on the sofa at the centre of the room, glasses askew, but nose raised up in a similar manner as his mother. 

“Hey there, we’re doing Math right?”

\-----

“-and then Jason just glared back, I think he’s secretly always trying to prove himself, you know, because he’s worried that he’d end up here regardless, while we still have one parent who wasn’t from here and of course that’s not true-”

“Drake, Father wants to listen to me now-”

“Hi, Bruce.” Cass smiled at her haggard-looking father, who’d just walked into the house only a few minutes after they’d walked back from school. The minute Tim saw the man walk in, he launched into a retelling of the yelling match that had begun between her oldest brothers once they’d all fit inside Dick’s car. 

“-anyway, so Dick lost his shit then because I think he’s trying to protect us from all the evil people who still live on the other side of the city, but he doesn’t know that they’re literally everywhere now, calling us names at school too, but oh! don’t worry about that, we can handle it-”

“Shut up, Drake-” 

“Kids,” Bruce sighed, grabbing at the papers he’d initially dropped on the dining table in the kitchen, collecting them and standing up, “That’s interesting and all, but I really need to focus on this project, crime never sleeps.”

“I was almost done,” Tim whispered, watching Bruce walk up the stairs, boots thumping as he made his way up. Silence reigned in the kitchen for the next few minutes as the kids gathered their wits. 

“Now he’ll never know what happened with Titus just this afternoon,” Damian shoved at Tim, almost making him fall off the chair he was leaning at the edge of, “Thank you _so_ much, Drake.”

Cass rubbed at Tim’s shoulder, trying to give him some solace as he bit at his nails watching Damian storm off upstairs, to his room most likely. 

\---

“That’s not what’s on the test though.” Mike, Mitch whatever his name was, looked at Jason with an expression that reminded him of Titus, Damian’s adopted street dog, right when he was just about to take a shit. The brat was so fucking close to being punched in the face. 

“Yeah, I got that,” Jason let out as politely as he could’ve through his teeth, “but you need to be able to get how to add simple fractions _before_ we move onto variables.” 

That was apparently the perfect moment for the Amy Schumer look-alike to enter and defend her ignorant child from shattering his overbearing ego. Fists on her hips, her Superman pose didn’t quite hit as her face scrunched up in arrogance. He wondered for a shameful second if Shelia would ever do something like this for him, that is if his mother wasn’t in prison. 

“What exactly are you teaching him?” 

“Look, lady,” he internally winced as he watched her stiffen at his verbosity, “he needs to be able to subtract regular fractions to be able to understand how to do the same when the numerator is substituted for by a variable-”

“Look, _kid_ ,” and _really_ , was he the only adult in here? 

“He’s right, we’re paying you to help him pass his exams, not-not-” she moved her left hand back and forth trying to remember what exactly he’d gone on to say after verbally insulted her. 

“But that’s exactly what I’m trying to do as well!” Jason pushed at the table, standing up, eyebrows scrunched up in pain, “Look, if he doesn’t pass I lose potential clients-”

“Get out.”

“But my pay-”

“I’m not paying you for making my Mike look dumb,” Jason rolled his eyes at that.

“I didn’t make him do anything, he did it all himself-”

Mrs Mathers looked genuinely pissed at his dismissive attitude towards her son, one of her arms shooting out straight pointing at the door. 

“Get. Out.”

Jason stood wide-eyed at first, shocked at the insecurity laced behind a simple math problem. But then again, what was he supposed to expect anyway. 

“Whatever.” 

The A-grade student rushed to pack his bag, hiking up a strap on his shoulder once he was done. Right when he’d almost made his way out the door, cheeks aflame, he heard the older woman converse in complete dejection to her son, “Why did they give you one of the Wayne rejects as a tutor anyway…”

Coming to halt at the doorway, he took a deep breath, remembering, however overdue, Dick’s lecture this morning on behaving less impulsively and in turn decided to stomp back home instead. He’d vent to his brother this evening, it was his suggestion to do so anyway. 

\-----

“See you tomorrow, dude.”

Dick waved back, as he brushed the front of his shirt absentmindedly, walking towards the entryway of the Academy. If anyone had told him five years back that this is where he’d probably end up, he’d have laughed, then probably clocked them across the face, he was going through quite a violent phase at that point in life. 

“I see that you’re finally going to join my dad’s side at work,” quipped a voice playfully to his left. Dick turned around to see Barbara Gordon, looking dashing in an ebony-coloured pantsuit, smirking at him. He’d known Barbara since before they’d first moved to Crime Alley. They’d stayed friends for the first few months after, when her dad was helping Bruce out in setting up his detective agency, but really, they’d lost touch after that. Which wasn’t that surprising considering the age gap, as well as the fact that they’d mainly conversed at Wayne Galas anyway. 

“Hey, Babs,” Dick smiled back, dimples showing, trying to keep his voice as stable as possible, “how have you been?”

She sighed back in response, playfully, “Oh you know.” 

He frowned back at that, in mock outrage, “Not really.”

“It’s been quite a while, hasn’t it?” She marvelled, eyes wide as if just realising so. Dick cringed internally at that. “I’m done with library science actually, thinking of joining Dad, maybe not.”

“That’s great, really!” Dick exclaimed, a smile stretching out as hers showed at his compliment. “I was wondering what you’d do, uh, after.”

As she went on to speak in more detail about her upcoming prospects, Dick’s eyes wandered through her lithe frame, unconsciously appreciating how she’d grown into her curves. Eyes reaching her admittedly shapely legs and he realised just exactly what he was doing, forcing the shameless sensory organ back up to her face. 

“-and so here I am. He should be getting here in a bit actually, you should say hi.” 

Dick nodded back, tight-lipped as he internally berated himself at not paying attention. He really _did_ want to know what she’d been up to. 

“What about you?” She voiced softly as she shifted her eyes to the side. He bit his lip, not sure if he wanted to answer honestly. But this was his once honest-to-God best friend, and he knew how hard of a time he had lying to her. 

“Could be better,” he smiled, more genuine, but small, her eyes finally finding their way back to his, “But I’ve got the kids, they’re great.” 

“That’s sweet-!” She looked back in surprise as an arm encircled her waist, making Dick lose his smile in an instant. “Jason!” 

“Babs,” The man in question smirked, before moving to greet him, “Grayson, hey.” 

Dick pursed his lips in response, smiling back only a second later as he replied in kind, shaking his hand with a bit more force than necessary, “Bard.”

He’d heard about them getting together, but it was just another thing seeing them flush against each other. Jason Bard was another recruit, who’d joined a few months before him. He was quite ordinary looking, brown hair and eyes, but Dick knew Barbara didn’t care much for looks. He was quite smart though, acing most of the classes he’d been in with Dick, but then again he didn’t know him well enough to make a proper judgement.

Barbara shifted as she smiled back, much larger than he’d just been given, and Dick felt his chest burn, just a little. He saw the girl he wanted get the guy she probably did deserve. 

He saw a life he probably could’ve had. Maybe. 

“Anyway I’ll see you around, need to get back home for dinner.” Dragging his hands into his pocket, Dick took the stairs out the Academy two at a time, escaping before he’d be forced to spend even more time feeling that unwelcomed melancholy. 

\---

“Hey big brother, is that Pizza?”

“Thank fuck, I’m starving.”

“Grayson, Drake didn’t let me spend the allotted father-son time this evening as I’d _specified-_ ”

“Like your story was even that interesting, brat-”

“Say that to my _face_ , imbecile-”

Dick dumped the Pizzas onto the dining table, his gaggle of siblings following behind like little ducklings; Jason having already grabbed a box of Pizza, Steph having grabbed a slice from him, both seating themselves down. Tim and Damian delved further into their argument behind him, as Cass grabbed in a hug. God bless his little sister. 

“Hey Cass,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead before bracing himself to start handling the rest of the brood. 

“Kiddos, no arguments at the dinner place, please.” 

Seating themselves down onto the dining table, everybody started to make their way through the three pizza boxes; one vegetarian for Dami, one pepperoni for Jason, Cass and Dick, and one Hawaiian for the two weirdos.

“Jason, how’d your tutoring session go?” 

Jason observed Dick, noticing how he looked absolutely done for the day: Uniform ruffled, tight-lipped smile, and dark circles accentuated by the paleness of his skin. There was no way that the drama was going to escalate further anyway, so he decided to keep the episode to himself.

“Uh, it was cool. Could’ve paid better.” 

“Cass, how was your day?” Dick went on to ask, as Damian in the background huffed, waiting for Dick to get to him, as Steph and Tim started conversing about someone at school they knew. Dick noticing this, tasked the kid to get some father-son bonding time anyway.

“Dami could you ask Bruce to join us?” 

“Fun. Art class.” Cass whispered back in response to his initial question, a sly smile coming onto her face that kind of worried Dick enough to ask about what exactly her definition of ‘fun’ was. 

“What do you mean by-”

He was interrupted by a heavy knocking coming from the front door. Raising his eyebrows in surprise he made his way to the door, rubbing his hands on his academy pants as he looked through the peephole. A familiar blonde woman was standing outside, a heavy Costco bag attached to her hip. 

Dick cleared his throat before opening the door, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms on his chest.

“Hi Dick, her Dad’s coming to the trailer tomorrow, I need her back.” She demanded barely looking at him, stretching on her tiptoes as she tried to get a glance inside the house. 

“Look, Crystal, I don’t want to repeat myself,” Dick started, only to be interrupted as she rolled her eyes and finished for him, “I know, she needs a stable home, especially since you don’t know if I’ll OD again or drop some cocaine, on accident by the way, into the dinner-”

“Exactly.” Dick waved his hands in frustration as he stood guard at the door. 

“Look.” Crystal sagged as she finally gave Dick her undivided attention, “Arthur’s finally got a job on hold, and if she’s not home, he’s going to leave.”

“I don’t care.” 

Dick moved his hand to the bannister, to make sure the older woman didn’t push her way in. Watching her eyes light up, he realised the kids had probably come out to the living room to see what the fuss was about. 

“You’re not getting her back. Don’t even try.” He remarked in finality as he shut the door before she got any ideas. 

“Get back to dinner please guys.”

“You know if Arthur has a job he’s probably up to something.” Dick took in a deep breath in anticipation of dealing with the individual who had just spoken.

“Hey Bruce, glad to know you’re still more interested in crime than you are in this family.”

He walked back to the dining room, ignoring the frown on Bruce’s face. He was pretty sure he was still trying to figure out Arthur Brown’s criminal activities, and not hurt over a comment he’d probably stopped hearing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot officially starts next chapter onwards, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Thanks.
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://cool-freebird36.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce has coffee with Jim, Tim might be having some trouble at school.

Bruce Wayne had been looking into the disappearances of 10-year old kids in the neighbourhood for the past few days. His previous cases, especially the ones where he consulted with Commissioner Gordon, tended to lack the now omnipresent concerned glances and clingy attitudes amongst parents and involved more side-stepping of fresh corpses as ignorant professionals walked across the chipped concrete. Most corpses found on the streets of Park Row tended to be a direct result of gang violence. Evidence for which was easy enough to procure, what with most gang leaders not really protecting their men to the best of their ability This helped make sure that the DA had a good chance of putting the offender behind bars. The more complicated cases, however, were ones not involving the common crazies that journeyed through the revolving doors at Arkham. Which was why Bruce didn’t initially find a susceptible link between the resurfacing of Cluemaster, a.k.a Arthur Brown, and the increase in kidnappings. So much so that he found it irrelevant to discuss over his coffee debrief with the Commissioner the next morning. 

“I’d like your advice on this,” Jim said. He reached for one of the fresh cups of regular coffee on the table, just delivered to them at booth fifteen by Roberta. “10 kids missing, with just one body that can maybe be linked to the kidnappings.” 

While Jim worked with the police force, Bruce preferred looking into evidence without any bureaucracy breathing down his neck. Meeting at Park’s Cafe, which had through the years become Bruce’s official workspace, was a better alternative to being questioned within a governmental institution that was the precinct. Most higher-ups didn’t really care what took place between a disgraced Wayne and his old friend as long as it didn’t impact their corporate dealings. 10 missing kids, one unidentified corpse, and any links between them seemed irrelevant to such individuals in positions of power. 

“The first link here, obviously, refers to the fact that they’re all around the age of 10 and from Crime Alley,” Jim added. 

“Hn.” Bruce shifted, his fingers clasped together on top of the table, didn’t give off any other visible response as he thought for a moment. There wasn’t much advice he could provide to a vague link across victims. Initially, when Jim first started singling him out during Wayne galas, Bruce had jumped at the opportunity to help the, then, senior detective catch criminals in a way the perpetrator for his parents’ murder was never caught. But years of brainstorming had taught him to never jump on a hunch unless there was enough evidence to back it up, especially the kind that would hold in court. He’d learned his lesson after the 10th time that the Penguin was not charged within the court. 

“But the main link is that most of the kids had been picked up from bedrooms,” Jim sighed wearily as he wiped at his face with his hand, “Which in and of itself makes you wonder how he’s doing it.”

Despite Jim’s refusal on the presence of any prints within the bedrooms, his eyes wide as he went on to recount the bafflement he’d experienced while speaking to the forensic experts, Bruce wanted to conduct a sweep of his own. While Gotham included people like Jim and Harvey Dent, evidence would still get disregarded or end up “missing” from logs if left alone long enough. Killer Croc and similar crazies weren’t the ones who’d force that hand, but the smart ones, the criminals who had some sort of inner agenda, were more likely to push things in their favour. Or pay another criminal to push things in their favour. 

“What about the murder you think might be related?”

“Well,” Jim breathed in heavily as his eyes moved to the side for the first time since his coffee arrived, “The body found was definitely a child’s, but...”

Bruce frowned at the commissioner’s hesitant behaviour. He could recall two other instances where the man had behaved similarly: the first time was when he’d spoken to him about his parents’ death; the second was when Dick had been kidnapped that first year he’d come to stay in the Manor. There weren’t any similarities between the two except for the fact that he’d been talking about a family member to Bruce, but that wasn’t the case now. Why was he hesitating then? 

“The child’s face was mutilated.” Jim’s voice wavered as he forced out the words, his face resigned in a manner similar to when this case first began. Perhaps his hesitance was due to the involvement of children then, Bruce concluded. 

“Hn.” 

\----

“My feet hurt.”

Steph’s complaints, while relevant, were the most commonplace aspect of the middle Wayne kids’ walk back home from school. The route, mapping from Gotham Middle School to 10 blocks down the entrance to Crime Alley, normally took them 40 minutes, mainly because Damian stopped at every block to pet and feed the alley cats. However, he’d had a field trip this morning, and their trip seemed to have been cut shorter based on the fact that they were half-way home, having just crossed Park’s Cafe. 

“You’re clearly far too used to Dick’s car rides Steph,” Tim murmured, kicking at an unsuspecting pebble minding its own business on his path. 

“I’m just saying,” Steph said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, hands on her hips. “I can’t wait for Jason to turn 16 so that he can drive us to and from school.” Stomping forward towards the streetlight in front of her, Steph hugged the pole as she groaned out loud.

“Jesus, Steph!” 

Tim wasn’t in the mood for her theatrics. Where normally he’d just laugh it off, as Cass was doing right next to him, the almost-a-teenager-Dick! had had quite a rough afternoon at school. Something that was immediately picked up on by his quiet sister. 

“Tim okay?” Cass looked pointedly at Tim, making it harder to keep the words bottled in. But it would take more than that to make him open up about the most embarrassing moment of his life. 

“Yeah Tim, why so serious?” Steph jumped off the street light, ready to find any form of distraction to keep from thinking about how her feet hurt. “Does this have something to do with that weird moment on the grounds, when you ran-mmph!” Tim’s palm found it’s way onto Steph’s mouth to hide away any traces of the earlier afternoon. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

\---

“If there’s really nothing else to discuss,” Jim paused as he glided out of the four-seater booth using the umbrella to support himself as he stood up solemnly, “I believe that’s all the two of us have regarding the missing kids.”

Bruce grunted back in response, sifting through the papers in a manner that reminded Jim of his Math teacher back in Gotham Academy as she frowned through papers and papers of pop-quizzes that she’d later give only a passing grade to. Jim found it quite common to associate Bruce’s perspective when it came to criminal activity in Gotham with his teachers' dejected attitude about the submitted work of students. He’s pretty sure that Bruce has a grading system on the criminals within the heavy brown folders that he carries. An A-grade criminal corresponding with more sophisticated criminal activities compared to a B-grade one. As if to prove his fantasy right, Bruce narrowed his eyes while circling relevant pointers within the papers in red ink. 

Clearing his throat to mask his involuntary chuckle at where his thoughts were leading, Jim nodded his head in goodbye to the private detective ready to make his way out.

“Jim.” 

Halting on his way towards the door, Jim turned around to find Bruce critically appraising him. When he motioned for Bruce to continue, the man in question shook his head in reply. 

“It’s nothing. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the late update! I was a bit blocked about what to do with a few characters and that kind of snowballed into an "I'll wait for it to come" that lasted for too many months. I decided to post this as it was high time and will probably elaborate on the "blockers" in the next few chapters. Hopefully. 
> 
> Thank you for reading !


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